


If I Could Have Spared You This

by AkiRah



Series: Tributaries Of Strength (Font Of Strength Side Fics) [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fallon Noicrothatch (OC) - Freeform, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Lt. Pierce is from Ziost and I wish that was addressed in the game, Ziost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: Immediately following the decimation of Ziost, Fallon has a moment with her Lieutenant.





	If I Could Have Spared You This

She felt it long before she saw anything; a dry cold snap as the Force _screamed_ in pain. Fallon’s head snapped around in time to witness Ziost’s last moments through the viewport. She half-sprinted over and watched, horrified, as a wave of _nothing_ blew over the planet’s surface. She was no stranger to death, she dealt it often and tended to greet the small hole it cut in the Force like an old friend that would soon depart.

This was _different_.

This wasn’t one person or ten or even a hundred. Every life form, sentient and otherwise, on the planet screamed for mercy at once. 

And yet that wasn’t the pain that drew her attention. The thread that bound her to the commander of her legions was pulled taut and snapped like a whip over bare flesh. She looked to her left as heavy footsteps approached and felt her black heart crack and threaten to split. 

Pierce put one hand up on the transpariglass and Fallon tried not to notice the way his arm shook. He cleared his throat and licked his lips and said . . . nothing. No words came. 

Fallon stepped sideways, closer to him. 

He tried again. “Are they--” 

She exhaled. “Yes.” 

“You’re sure?” 

She closed her eyes and nodded, hating the thin thread of hope in his voice and the fact that _she_ had to break it. She wished she could lie and spare him the truth. It wasn’t a desire Fallon dealt with very often. She was not a gentle soul by nature and the truth, however painful, was a gift those under her command deserved.

With Pierce, who was every inch as ruthless as she was, the desire to lie to make the pain ease was particularly anomalous. He was her Lieutenant, possibly the nearest thing to a _friend_ that she possessed, not that either would acknowledge it verbally. He understood the thrill of combat, the hot thrum of adrenaline that was better than any physical high. He craved the way _hope_ died in an enemy’s eyes. He bucked beneath authority just as much as she did, knowing his talents and strengths, refusing to be undervalued. He twisted his superiors when the need struck him, but he knelt to her. He swore himself to her and the fire in his eyes when he fought confirmed his loyalty. He longed for action, for the thick of things and not _solely_ for the glory of the Empire or for the chance at victory. They were kindred souls in many ways, brutes of the same caliber, and because of that he had never _needed_ the cushion of a kindly lie. He never needed her attempts at gentleness.

She would have given a small moon to lie to him now. To make what had happened not have happened. Or at least have happened somewhere else. He rarely spoke of his childhood home or his family, always focused on the present and future. But he wrote. She had overheard the holocalls on birthdays and important holidays.

“I need time, m’lord.” His voice was strained and tight. He didn’t turn to look at her, eyes fixed out the viewport on the gray world that had been his childhood home. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “As much as you require. Consider all expenses for . . . funerary . . . arrangements pre-approved.” 

Pierce took a sharp breath that shuddered at the end. The hand on the glass bent, fingers curling almost to a fist. Fallon stood at his side. They were silent for a long while. She folded her hands behind her back, content to stand and be there if he needed something. She pretended she didn’t see the tears dripping down his cheeks. Pierce made no attempt to wipe them away. 

He cleared his throat. “I need to get to the surface. See if there’s anything left.” He looked at her and she nodded once. 

“I’ll accompany you.” She said so he didn’t have to endure the indignity of asking. “I’ll have Quinn take the girls back to Dromund Kaas, Jaesa will need to be away from the aftermath and Vette is gentle. We’ll take a transport home when we’ve finished.” _Home_ , she said, because she needed him to know that _this_ grey, desiccated husk of a world was no longer his home. That his home was with her. On rainy Dromund Kaas in their stronghold, with music and bickering and _life_. He was hers. Commander of her Legions. He would not be forgotten. 

And she said none of that. Instead, Fallon touched his arm. “The quarantine will not prevent our descent.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

She wanted to promise that The Emperor would pay, but couldn’t lie to him. After what they had seen, what they had _felt_ , she didn’t know if Vitiate could be stopped, let alone killed. 

A gentle lie was all she wanted for Pierce, but it would have been rebuked it offered. 

She turned and produced her holocomm. “Captain,” she said softly. “You will take Jaesa and Vette to Dromund Kaas. Lieutenant Pierce and I will join you there.” 

Quinn gave and shallow bow. “Yes, my lord.” He cleared his throat and his posture relaxed from _captain_ to _husband_. “Are you alright?” 

“No,” she said softly. “But you will inform the Dark Council on my behalf that from this moment forth I am the Wrath of the Empire, not of the Emperor. I will not serve the beast that did this.” 

“Yes, my lord. At once.” 

The comm went quiet and she tucked it away. “Shall we, Lieutenant?”

Pierce cleared his throat. “Right behind you, my lord.” 

* * *

There was nothing left. 

The ground was ashen grey. The buildings lay in ruins worse than anything Fallon had seen during the war. Worse than before the treaty of Coruscant. The air was still. There were no plants. No animals. No sounds to buffer against the silence when they turned the speeder off. 

Pierce looked at the shell of a house. 

There were no bodies. 

He dropped to his knees outside of where his mother’s front door should have been. 

And Fallon pretended she couldn’t see him weep. She pretended she didn’t hear him scream. She moved through the wreckage and found a ring, pock-marked from the blast, half-melted. When Pierce was calmer, Fallon set it in his palm. 

She would have given anything to spare him this moment. 

Pierce closed his fist around the metal keepsake. 

There was nothing else left. 


End file.
